


The Double

by Hopetohell



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), The Cold Light of Day (2012)
Genre: Biting, Bloodplay, Gags, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sexualized Violence, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell
Summary: They take you apart in the worst way. Yes, they. He’s brought a friend.
Relationships: August Walker/Reader, August Walker/Reader/Will Shaw
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	The Double

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely self-indulgent and I have no excuse.

Will Shaw is a fucking mess. He reaches for something inside himself that he can’t find because he doesn’t even know what he’s looking for. You could tell him, if you could speak. But the improvised gag of his belt makes your words into moans and little high-pitched whimpers, and the buckle cuts into your lips because he is careless as well as confused, he is all anger and he will take everything from you if he doesn’t remember himself. 

August is there behind him, ostensibly to show him how to push right to the edge of your limits, to keep him from going too far. But August is an asshole, and Will is nearly lost to the physicality of his rage, and you are in more trouble than you realized. 

“Easy there,” August murmurs as Will is shaking out his hand, as you are trying to blink the blood out of your eye. That one might need stitches, might even scar. It _definitely_ doesn’t send a thrill through you, the thought of August having to look at you and see someone else’s mark. You wonder, vaguely, what he would do about it, if he would carve his own mark over it to reclaim you, if he would _savage_ you to claim you inside and out. Your eyes flick to the brand on your arm, the scar still red and shiny. 

He’d definitely mark you fresh. 

But there’s August coming around behind you, licking up your neck, moaning a little at the blood on his tongue. It sends lines of fire running through you, buckling your knees where you stand, sends you swaying a little. You haven’t gone down yet and he is _so_ proud of you for that, and a little smug too, knowing how often and how easily he’s sent you to the ground. 

“Cool off a little,” he says to Will, who’s hovering close by and looking like he’s either about to cry or start throwing punches again, lost with the need to move, to dominate, to do _something_. “Get her ready for me.” There’s a glance between them, a strange predatory communion, before Will is moving forward, dropping to his knees, wrenching your thighs apart. It throws your balance and you’d fall if it wasn’t for August behind you, forearm tight across your chest, other hand wrenching your head back by the hair as he licks the blood from your split eyebrow. It stings, _fuck,_ but it also sends lightning zinging straight to your cunt and when Will first presses his tongue into you, it has you screaming around the gag. 

And Will is...not great at this, unpracticed and messy, licking and suckling everywhere, fluttering from place to place without ever giving you a chance to settle into a rhythm. But he is enthusiastic, and when he gets his teeth involved it doesn’t really matter if he’s good at it or not; the painful edge has you bucking and shaking against his face. And when he draws back to catch his breath, he lays bite marks over the bruises on your thighs, crescents that darken nearly black and weep blood in the indentations from his sharp canines. He surges up to kiss you then, wet and messy, forgetting the gag, but August grips at him, pulls him by the hair to steal your taste from him instead. 

And you are crushed between them, breath gone from your lungs as they work in concert to lift you up, to spear you on August’s cock even as you’re still trembling from aftershocks, whimpering weakly high in your throat. You are filthy, a mess of blood and sweat and spit and your own essence, and you see them smeared shining with it, painted in your primal colors. Will helps to hold you steady but he doesn’t need to; August is strong enough, ferocious enough to fuck you standing like it’s nothing. Your toes don’t even touch the floor, body bouncing helplessly. And all the while Will slithers and slides about you, laying as many marks as he can get away with, painting you in constellations of fingerprint bruises and teeth marks. 

You’re screaming around the gag at the end, lips bruised and cut and _oh_ when August looses the belt from around your face and kisses you like he’s trying to consume you, _oh_ how the sting of it fires all your nerves at once. And with a final thrust, and one last savage bite on your thigh, Will’s last mark, you howl and shake and come so hard you can’t see.

When you come to they are still working together, cleaning your body with warm damp rags, and August is carefully patting antiseptic onto your cuts. You drift away again to the feel of their warm hands.


End file.
